


A shadow from the past

by huntingosprey



Series: The masks we wear [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 12:25:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2191776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntingosprey/pseuds/huntingosprey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somethings you just can't leave behind how ever hard you try, when one of those things sends John a deadly warning he has no choice but to call an old friend or two.</p>
<p>A prologue type thing to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2045217">With friends like these</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2056608">Dr. J.H Watson, RIP?</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	A shadow from the past

John stared down at the thing, sat squarely and, if you didn't know what it meant, innocently on the door step of 221B. He didn't bother to search for the person who'd left it knowing they'd be long gone, training kicked in and he slipped a pair of latex gloves on before picking up the bundle of plant life.

Doing a visual check of the front door first to make sure he wasn't going to trigger any surprises, he slipped inside silently drawing his gun as he passed out of sight of the pavement. The passage was empty but he didn't relax his vigilance, back firmly against the wall gun ready he sidled towards 221C.

Taking a deep breath he kicked the door open and slammed through sweeping eyes and gun around the door frame into the corners and finally across the floor.

"John?!" Mrs Hudson called "What ever."

"Stay where you are." John barked before he pushed into 221C to sweep the other rooms.

Happy that 221C was clean and the 221A probably hadn't been disturbed he relaxed slightly, no need to frighten Mrs Hudson by waiving a gun in her face, that said he now had to get her to safety. 

"John?" Mrs Hudson asked again, looking worried as he emerged from the basement flat.

"Apologies ma'am," John said formally, "The, case has developed in an, unfortunate, manner."

Mrs Hudson swept her eyes over Captain Watson, for there was no doubt it was the Captain who stood before her, weapon ready eyes never still expecting trouble.

"I see Captain, I should pack and find a safer place I take it." She asked.

John smiled at her, "I'm afraid so Mrs Hudson. I've had a, warning, that it would be stupid to ignore. You have somewhere you can go?"

Mrs Hudson nodded, ever since the incident with the phone and the CIA agent who 'fell' onto her bins she'd had plans made for this eventuality. Patting John on the shoulder she turned and hurried back into 221A reappearing within minutes with her coat and a packed bag.

"You never did know when the siren would go off," She said at John's raised eyebrows, "It always paid to keep a packed bag or you could be spending the night in a shelter with nothing but your night clothes."

John grinned, _Thank God for unflappable landladies_ "Don't tell me where and don't contact me. In an emergency I'll text you from the burner phone anything else ignore."

Mrs Hudson nodded, "Take care John. I don't want both my boys in hospital."

John watched her leave thinking that if things went wrong he'd be lucky to wind up in hospital. His landlady hopefully safely out of the way John raised his gun and went up the steps to 221B expecting anything to be lurking behind the flat door.

Taking a deep breath he kicked open the door finger tight on his guns trigger all his sense on maximum alert. It was almost disappointment to find the main room of the flat empty of any one, or anything more dangerous than Sherlock usually kept in the flat. Still hyper aware however he methodically swept the flat looking for any further warnings or signs of intruders. Finding nothing new or missing in any room he slumped down on the floor between the windows back to the wall, putting himself out of sight of anyone looking into the flat from the opposite buildings and giving him the best view of the door, and pulled out the bouquet. Belladonna, Scotch Broom and Hemlock _Well not much subtly in that choice is there?_ He asked himself sarcastically, subtle the choice might not have been but it did provide the answers to a number of other questions. 

Having waited three quarters of an hour just in case he hoisted himself to his feet he headed into the kitchen, being silently thankful for Sherlock's insistence on having a laboratory in the flat. He took several photos of the whole bouquet from all sides before laying it out on what had been a baking tray before being re-purposed as a specimen tray and carefully cutting it open. Half an hour later he concluded that there was nothing else hidden in the greenery, however it did leave him with a problem. After a few minutes thought he sent the pictures to an address he hadn't used in years and had half hoped never to have to use again and sat back to wait.


End file.
